Falling to Find Myself – A Poem
The world was
falling
around me. I
tried to take
a step, but
the floor rose
up
to meet me,
as if it
wanted to give
me an embrace.
I knew that
something was wrong,
that my body
was not my
own anymore.
I waited months
for a diagnosis,
longing to know
the name of
the beast that
now resided within
me, while at
the same time
dreading the outcome.
What shadow lay
within me? And
more importantly, could
I accept it
once it had
a human name?
While I waited,
I fell again
and again, my
body rebelling against
what I wanted
it to do.
When I did
finally get an
answer, the symptom
was like a
voice in the
wind, there but
fleeting. There, but
like gossamer within
my grasp. As
I tried to
relearn what my
body was and
what I house
inside my skin,
I took steps
towards getting better.
I started on
the inside, focusing
on the Spirit
and then the
heart. Only then
would I be
strong enough to
tackle the biggest
obstacle: my body.
I found solace
in Reiki, found
guidance in Tarot
cards, found comfort
in Manifestation, in
choosing my own
path. I was
still falling, still
letting the ground
rise up to
meet me, its
concrete embrace somehow
comforting because it
was something familiar
now. However, each
time I got
up, each time
I pulled my
body upright and
brushed off the
dust left behind
from my concrete
embrace, I was
stronger. Each time
I got back
up and refused
to stay down,
I found a
little bit more
of myself. I
could see the
pieces of the
chalice that had
been within me
littering the street
like diamonds, glittering
in the half
sunlight of mid-day.
I gathered each
one as I
found them, following
their luminescence towards
the future. Each
time I took
one in my
grasp, it lay
in my hand
for a moment,
but would then
sink into my
skin. I could
feel the chalice
rebuilding itself within
me, the shards
and pieces fusing
together. As each
piece found its
mate, the light
within me grew
stronger. I wasn’t
just falling. I
was falling to
find myself, the pieces
of me that
I had lost.
With each piece,
I took back
more of myself,
regained the pieces
of me that
I had thought
to be lost.
Each time I
stood up again,
I wasn’t merely
regaining my footing.
More than that,
I was reclaiming
myself, I was
rising
for a new
day, for a
new dawn, for
a new me.
Every time I
got back up,
I was telling
myself that the
disease wouldn’t win,
and that was
enough.
